The Feelings
by The Next Marauder
Summary: Lily Evans had many feelings for James Potter. Sequal to The Looks. LJ. OneShot. Please read and review!


**Disclamer: **I own nothing you regognise... Yadda yadda...

**Dedication: **This story is for BumbleBeast, because she told me she loved my other one so much she wanted another. Thanks!

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When I look back, I realise what an idiot I was for ever refusing you. You always made me feel different every year...

In First year you made me annoyed. I felt flustered whenever you walked past me, because you tried to look cool. You and your stupid 'Marauders'. More like 'The Lunatic Brigade'. You played pranks on un suspecting people, but the thing that bugged me the most was that people liked you for it. They actually liked you.

The first time I noticed you looking at me was in Transfiguration. You always sat two desks down from me, and the one time I dared to look at you, you were staring at me, as if I was an alien. I didn't know what to think, I never did. Because for that one moment when you were staring at me I felt a strange feeling, that sent shivers down my spine. But I forgot about it soon enough.

In Second year you made me feel agitated. I couldn't stand the way you walked around the school like you owned the place. Every now and again I'd let my emotions get too far and I'd shout at you. Most of those shouting matches the school would be talking about for the next couple of days. I tried to ignore them. That I could do. But ignoring you? That would be like ignoring death staring you right in the face.

In second year I became friends with Remus. I knew it meant the risk of seeing you more often, but I couldn't be mean just because of his choice of friends. And if I was lucky I might not have to see you anymore than I did before. Fat chance.

In Third year you made me enraged. You couldn't wait to go to Hogsmede, and you wanted to have a date the first time you went. That was when you started asking me. At first I thought it was rather funny and strange. The fact that James Potter wanted to go out on a date with me, when he had hundreds of girls who could actually stand the sight of him was almost laughable. Almost. My friends told me you'd grow out of it, but I knew better. And I was right.

I couldn't stand the way that you jinxed innocent people, even if they were the Slytherins. And when you got on the Gryffindor quiddich team? I thought I'd never hear the end of it. And it made me mad to no end the way you ruffled your hair to make it look like you'd just got off your broomstick. Talk about a show off. But somewhere, deep down, that emotion was stirring again.

In Fourth year you made me feel infuriated. I had to keep a back up or remarks to stop myself from crying at some of your remarks. You kept asking me out, and I couldn't see if you'd ever stop. I found it almost flattering that the first day back you asked me out. I almost forgot to say no. Almost. At that point I was convinced that nothing I said could penetrate your thick skull. I put it down to the fact that you were so big-headed that nothing could reach you up where you were.

But one night as I was looking out my window, trying to repress an emotion that was threatening to bubble up, I saw a stag on the edge of the forest. And in the moment where our eyes connected I could have sworn it was you. But I was just being silly. Wasn't I?

In Fifth year you made me feel livid. You started taking every moment possible to tell me how beautiful you thought I was. You even did it in the middle of dinner, while we were surrounded by almost every student and teacher in the whole school. I thought it was just another one of your twisted ways to get my attention.

One day, after a day of trying to avoid you but failing miserably, I couldn't take it anymore. I knew the common room was packed, and I knew the only way to get to your head was to hurt your pride. So I said it. I told you, in front of almost all of Gryffindor, that I hated you. Looking back, I'm not sure I meant it. I'm not sure I ever did. I didn't have long to look at your hurt expression though, I stormed out of the portrait hole and found a deserted classroom where I cried for hours.

In Sixth year you made me feel furious. I couldn't count the amount of times I wanted to slap you right across your smug face, just to wipe that stupid smile off your face. Once I even contemplated taking your glasses, just so you'd know what it was like to feel almost helpless. When you walked past me there was always a momentary pause before your remarks. That was something I could never understand.

I used to mentally brace myself for the comments that came flying at me. I always shouted right back at you, but you seemed to almost like it, and it made me so mad at you. On the train home that summer I let it all go. I shouted more than I had ever in my life, and I told you that if you really liked me the you wouldn't be so stubborn and pig headed. I wasn't sure, but it almost looked as if the last part sunk in.

In Seventh year you made me feel infatuation. I was so in love with you that I could almost hear the birds singing where ever I went. I realised that you really did love me, so much so that you'd changed for me. You stopped jinxing people, and I stopped shouting at you, and suddenly I felt complete. I must admit, the head duties made me realise that you weren't all that bad.

And as you leaned in to kiss me, I no longer felt annoyed or repulsed, or even crazy, like half the school thought we were, I felt in love. And I realised that that was the way I wanted to be forever. In love. With you.

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And a great big 'Awwwww' 

Please review? Pretty please with James on top?


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